Imagine
by Syberian Quest
Summary: Because there's always more than meets the eye.


_~For all golden-age Amian shippers. _

_xXxXx_

"Two adults."

"That will be-"

"Fifteen pounds. I can do the math."

Ignoring the woman's frown and pointed looks of customers behind him, Ian reached into his wallet, producing a crisp 100-pound note, and handed it across the kiosk's counter. The woman received it with a cold stare and equally frigid smile.

"My apologies," he stated unremorsefully as she blatantly inspected the bill for sign of fraud, "but it was all I had."

The brunette flashed him another wooden smile precisely as a bony elbow jabbed him neatly in the ribs.

"Here, I have a twenty; that should be easier for change."

The woman exhibited her first genuine smile as she accepted the money, leaving Ian to collect his abandoned note from off the counter. His companion smiled apologetically at the tourists waiting impatiently behind them, although he couldn't fathom why. Heaven knew he had waited his turn, and he wasn't about to forfeit his long-awaited position for some wet-nosed tykes and their chav parents who had gotten lost on their way to Disneyland.

The woman returned from her till with a five-pound bill, two tickets, and a disgustingly perky smile no doubt directed at Amy. "And would you like a complimentary audio guide to go along with your visit?"

"Yes. Two please," Amy responded politely while pocketing the change. The woman handed them both to Amy, not even attempting to mask her indifference towards Ian.

"Thank you," Amy said with a smile. Ian managed a brisk nod.

They took a step away from the kiosk, allowing the next customers to proceed forward, as Amy handed Ian his ticket and audio guide. Smiling sweetly, she informed him, "You owe me fifteen pounds."

He waved it off. "Crumbs."

"Then you should have no trouble paying it."

Turning on her heel, she proceeded towards the walkway, not bothering to wait for a response. He trailed after her, muttering under his breath.

"Most confounded date I've ever been on…"

Amy slowed and glanced back, a devious twinkle in her eye. "As I recall, _you _were the one asking _me _on the date." She smiled smugly. "This was _your_ idea."

"Le Maurice was my idea," he retorted sourly. "Not _Stonehenge_."

She bit back a grin. "Then your proposal should have been more specific. 'Anywhere you like' is a bit too generic for my tastes. I'm not sure how I was supposed to get Le Maurice out of that."

He smiled grimly. "I assumed you would choose some five-star restaurant that requires reservations a year in advance. How was I to know you would think of _this_?"

"Never make assumptions, Ian."

"Of course. And I suppose this is your twisted sort of revenge for my forcing you into this?"

She shrugged. "Partially, although I've always dreamed of seeing Stonehenge." She shot him a pointed look. "I still can't believe you've lived in England all your life and never visited."

"I've flown over it plenty of times," he responded indifferently. "And pictures are quite enough. They're also _free_," he added in slightly bitter tone.

"Le Maurice sure isn't."

He jammed his hands in his pockets and muttered something unintelligible. The irony of his situation was appalling. His last encounter with the Cahill girl-turned-historian had cost him a profit of millions, not to mention inflicting serious damage to his pride. Heaven forbid his worthless counterparts ever catch wind of his current predicament. He'd be the laughingstock of every art dealership in London.

If he wasn't already.

They passed the gates and deposited their tickets, following the steady stream of tourists and sightseers that were pouring in. The majority were sporting some sort of raingear or another in an attempt to shield themselves from the impending rainfall forecasted for the day. It was certainly impossible to miss, what with the neon raincoats resembling oversized rubbish bags. Fortunately for him, the Weather Network had yet again proved to be incorrect, as the dreary overcast had not yet produced any undesirable showers. Meteorologists were a lucky sort, he reasoned. It was one of the few occupations where a person could spout nonsense and still have the public eating out of their hand.

Beside him, Amy reached into her jacket and pulled out an audio guide as they strolled along the entirely too small walkway intended to keep all sightseers from wandering off and getting too close to anything irreplaceable. "May as well," she decided while slipping a pair of headphones over her head and under her hair. She gestured towards his, now stuffed in a coat pocket. "And you have your own."

With a sigh, he pulled out the device and tentatively placed one speaker close enough to hear. He pressed play and listened for a moment, his brow immediately furrowing in distaste.

The wretched woman.

Instantly he yanked the ear piece away, precisely as Amy let out a small gasp. He glanced up, witnessing the glory that was Stonehenge in all its Neolithic magnificence. Colossal bluestones littered the emerald plains of Wiltshire, their blue-grey hue perfectly amalgamating with the overcast and ominous sky. In other words, it appeared no different from any photograph; seeing it in person wasn't any more exhilarating.

Apparently, though, the historian maintained an entirely different perspective. Everything about her emanated child-like wonder, and Ian couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. No doubt, her wide-eyed gaze was certainly a more intriguing sight than 2000-tons of stone.

Her copper-coloured hair hung loose, contrasting with the black wires of her headphones. It had always been more brown than red, although the sunlight played an illusion that made it appear the opposite. He found the auburn locks, both wavy and untamable due to the constant humidity, slightly mesmerizing, but resisted the urge to reach out and touch them.

Her eyes danced with the excitement of living out a dream she had obviously waited a lifetime to experience. They held an unusual vibrance, he noticed, and the typical dark-green hue now more closely resembled the emerald fields of the countryside, another result of the sun's furtive rays. It was surprising how natural she looked here. While he was at his best in amidst the crème de la crème of civilization, she appeared peculiarly at ease away from all that. It was no longer a surprise that she had pursued her childhood dream of becoming an archaeologist.

Glancing up, she caught sight of his shameless stare and immediately looked away, slightly flustered. A flush of pink touched her cheeks, although with the crisp spring air already giving her face a rosy tint, it was difficult to notice. Ian continued to watch her, blatantly enjoying her obvious discomfort.

She pulled off her headphones and cautiously met his eyes. "Y-You're not going to listen?"

Ian handed the audio guide towards Amy, smirking to himself over her slight stammer. "It's in Japanese."

This time she smirked. "And you're surprised because…?"

"-that woman had the gall to insult a paying customer," he finished indignantly. "It's a wonder she was ever hired in the first place, but-"

"Just forget it," Amy interrupted, attempting to neutralize the situation. "We'll survive without the tour."

"Ah, yes. You're the expert in all things decrepit and decaying, isn't that right?" he remarked offhandedly. It was no secret he still remembered – and deeply resented – the circumstances of their previous episode.

Ignoring the barb, she stepped to the very edge of the pathway, sectioned off by a small rope fence. They had come exceptionally close to the monument, which presently towered above them. Amy pushed back a piece of loose hair, tucking it behind her ear, and sighed wistfully. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Ian tugged at his coat collar, pulling it close around his face to shield him from the chill, and stepped towards her, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "They're rocks."

Turned away from him, he couldn't see her face, although it wasn't difficult to imagine a look of exasperation spreading across her delicate features. "You sound just like Dan," she finally sighed.

"And since when did Daniel acquire a British accent?"

Amy looked up and met his eyes, her gaze scrutinizing his placid features. She attempted to glare at him, although her smile spoiled the intended effect. "You're impossible, you know that?" she huffed, rolling her eyes.

He flashed a charming smile. "That's the idea."

She shook her head in mock frustration. "Really, Ian, is it so difficult to stop complaining and just enjoy yourself for one day?"

"Amy," he responded plaintively, "I understand that you love history, but I don't." He motioned towards the monument. "They're nothing but stones."

"But that's just it, Ian!" she exclaimed, taking on the dreaded expression that left no doubt of an imminent lecture. "You're missing the point. It's not about the stones. Because you're right about them; they _are_ just stones. The people, the significance, the mystery behind it all – _that's _the point. The stones are simply what's left."

He had to hand it to her; she was clearly passionate about prehistoric ruins. But unfortunately for her, it wasn't contagious. "Forgive me for bursting your bubble, Amy," Ian responded with a shrug, "but all I see are stones."

She looked vaguely disappointed for a moment, almost making Ian wish he could appreciate this place for something more, when her jaw set in sudden determination. "Fine then. I'll _make _you see it. Close your eyes," she ordered.

"What?"

"Close your eyes."

He frowned, but complied, hesitantly shutting his eyelids until nothing but black remained. "Now I don't see anything."

"Okay, good. Now picture the fields, green and lush and as far as the eye ca-"

"All right, I see it. Can we move on?"

She bit her lip. "Fine. Just envision the stones – the biggest ones – not where they are now, but on sledges, attached to ropes, with hundreds of men pushing and pulling and dark thunder clouds overhead about to unleash a terrible storm."

Ian remained motionless. "All of them need a shave and a shower."

"_Augh_."

"May I open my eyes now? I feel like a gump."

She shook her head, laughing softly to herself. "No, not yet. First you have to use your imagination."

He smiled smugly. "And suppose I don't have one?"

She leaned towards him, enough so that he could feel her soft breath on his skin. "Everyone does."

"Fine," he relented, if only to escape her unique method of torture. "Did they have kings in the Dark Ages or was it simply a handful of barbaric chiefs?"

"For your sake," she responded despondently, "we won't worry about historical accuracy."

He sighed. "All right. I'm imagining a king. He's very handsome – devilishly so - "

"Of course."

" – and exceptionally cunning. He's terribly rich, with innumerable servants, gold, and silver – "

"Does he also happen to be extremely arrogant?"

"-is extremely _humble _while continually managing to enjoy the finer things in life – "

"You're overdoing it."

"And at his side rules a lovely red-headed queen."

There was a conspicuous silence.

"All of his vast wealth and power, however, mean little if future generations don't remember him for it. So he gathers all of his citizens and orders them to construct a magnificent monument to honour his great name, one that will stand the test of time and last for all eternity. And, being the worthless and cowardly peasants that they are, they have no choice but to obey their majestic and powerful ruler." He opened one eye and glanced at Amy. "There. Are you satisfied?"

A slow smile spread across her face. "It's a start."

He opened his other eye, immediately catching sight of a woman walking backwards, directly into Amy. He reached out, too late to warn Amy, but in just enough time to steady her as the two collided, sending Amy straight into Ian's arms.

The woman instantly turned, a horrified expression covering her face. She hastily apologized and helped Amy to her feet, repeatedly condemning her own clumsiness. Amy, of course, was quick to reassure her that no damage had been done, when she noticed the camera in the woman's hand and the family standing several feet behind them. Flashing the woman a hopeful smile, she asked, "Would you mind taking a picture of us when you're finished? If it's not too much of a bother, that is."

Ian glanced at her with mild surprise, and the woman, only too eager to comply, went back to photographing the family while Amy reached into her knapsack in search of her camera. Noticing his skepticism, she smiled. "I couldn't possibly leave without some memento," she explained.

And if it meant an excuse to get a little closer to his date, then he didn't really mind.

The woman returned, took the camera, and moved back several feet, careful not to slam into any other unsuspecting pedestrians. Amy looked back, angling herself in just the right way so that the stones were clearly visible behind them. Ian followed, carefully positioning himself beside her.

"What's the occasion?" the woman called out casually as she lifted the camera to get a better idea of which angle to use.

"Pardon?"

She lowered the camera slightly and gestured towards Ian. "Your man friend, dear. He's dressed to kill. What's the occasion?"

Ian glanced down at his attire and scoffed. A cream sweater and black dress pants were hardly exceptional. Amy, on the other hand, had dressed up a bit more than usual, sporting jeans that didn't appear to be from a second-hand store, along with a black-buttoned jacket and brilliant green sweater that almost matched her eyes. The colour suited her, he noted.

"This is casual for him," Amy responded, pushing back a piece of hair that was whipping about her face.

The woman suppressed a look of surprise, but said nothing. At last having found the desired angle, she motioned for Ian and Amy to move closer together. "Tell Mr. Bond over there to move in a little," she instructed.

Taking that as his cue, Ian put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, ignoring her silent protests.

"That will work."

They both froze, and Ian smiled easily, quite enjoying the pleasure of holding Amy so close against him, despite her palpable tension.

The first flash went off, and the woman held up a finger. "One more, if you please."

He leaned in, close enough to smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo. "Loosen up."

She glanced up and rolled her eyes, although he could feel her body gradually relax. They resumed their previous pose, this time visibly more at ease, just as the second flash went off. Reluctantly, Ian released his grip and stepped aside as the woman returned the camera, allowing Amy time to see if she was satisfied with the pictures.

Amy flipped through them, pausing at the last image. She looked up and smiled. "This one should work. Thank you so much."

As the woman dissolved into the crowd, Ian glanced over Amy's shoulder at the small silver camera. Two smiling faces peered back at him, one with sparkling eyes and wide grin, the other self-assured and thoroughly enjoying the girl in his arms. Behind them, both sky and stones framed the young couple.

"You'll make two prints, I hope," Ian commented as Amy put away the camera.

She glanced up from rezipping her bag. "Who says I'm making prints?"

"A file on your computer isn't much of a memento."

She swung her bag back over her shoulders. "I'll get two copies."

He smiled and crossed his arms, waiting as she adjusted the knapsack. "So we're finished then?"

Cocking her head to the side, she shot him a 'you-should-know-better' look. "Are you kidding? We've just gotten started. Stonehenge is only one of many historical sites in the area. There are 1500 acres of protected land, which include the Durrington Walls, Woodhenge, and Bluehenge, just to name a few."

His arms dropped limply to his side. "Why am I not surprised."

Ignoring him, she brushed her hair away from her shoulders and checked the time. "Fortunately for you, it's almost lunchtime. I figure we could head out towards Stonehenge Down, which is over on one of those trails, and enjoy the view while we eat."

"Don't tell me – we're buying from the 'Stonehenge Kitchen."

"Actually, no," she replied, beginning to push her way through the crowd towards the exit. "I thought about it, but figured a picnic would be nicer."

He glanced at her backpack. "And what did you bring?"

She smiled sweetly. "Oh, don't worry; you won't like it. Too _ordinary _for your highly-refined tastes." Her smile turned sly. "But, might I add, it is better than cafeteria food."

Ian grimaced as though the words were physically painful. "I feel compelled to point out that Le Maurice has _excellent_ -"

"Oh, be grateful," she cut in, shooting him a lethal glare. "I could have chosen the Gaza Plateau or Machu Picchu."

"You'd never do that," he laughed scornfully. "Too much of a fuel waste."

"Not if we went commercial."

He cringed.

They made their way past the gates and beyond the parking lot, a complimentary map and Amy's intuition acting as their only guides. It didn't take them long to find the trail, and it was only a bit longer before they stumbled across a small upward slope, which to Amy's delight, offered a splendid view of the famous stone circle. Quickly declaring the spot as suitable, she began to unpack the lunch she had provided and forced Ian to set the checkered tablecloth on the grass beneath an overhanging tree.

Additional rays of sunlight were attempting to break through the dark barrier of clouds, offering a brighter alternative for the afternoon's weather forecast. Dew still dampened the grass, but under the sun's illuminating rays, it glowed with a jewel-like radiance that brought the fields of Salisbury Plain to life. A soft wind toyed with the tallest grasses, causing them to dance lightly in the breeze. The lone tree standing above them wavered slightly, and the cool draft caused a chill to run down their spines, making them pull their jackets tighter against their bodies.

Ian leaned back lazily, placing the full weight of his body on his hands. Amy sat cross-legged to his right, the food and knapsack somewhere in between but just far enough back so not to get in the way. Puffs of spring seedpods floated by, and Amy leaned forward, intent on trapping a lone piece. She moved forward slowly and spread out her hands as she waited for it to drift by. When it was mere inches from her face, she abruptly clapped her hands together and hugged them to her chest, carefully opening them to reveal whether or not she had successfully ensnared her prize.

"You missed." Ian gestured to the piece of fluff now floating a foot above her head, pushed upward by the movement of her hands.

She dropped her arms in her lap and glanced at him sheepishly. "I can never catch those things."

His amber eyes lazily met hers. "I've never tried."

Their gazes locked for several tantalizing seconds before she managed to pull away. It had taken all of his strength not to lose himself in a sea of green.

Quickly Amy turned to her knapsack, an obvious effort to escape the intensity of his gaze. "Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm not particularly hungry," was his response.

"Neither am I," she admitted, returning to her previous position. She stared out into the vast empty fields and at the figure of Stonehenge. "I could just stare at the view forever."

A cloud suddenly cut across the sky, permitting a beam of light to pour forward. It hit Ian directly in the eyes, temporary blinding him. Shielding his eyes, he peered into the distance. "If I'm not mistaken, this is exactly where the king and his queen watched the worthless peasants build Stonehenge." He nodded at Amy. "Under this very tree."

She emitted a half-smile. "I seriously doubt this tree is that old."

"There was another tree."

Her eyes laughed, and he felt a longing to see them do it more often. She fell silent, her gaze lingering in the distance, but the quiet was comfortable. The sound of leaves rustling and grass swaying filled any emptiness, and the sheer pleasure of her company made up for the lack of conversation.

Several minutes of silence passed before Ian couldn't appreciate the scenery any longer. He shifted his weight and moved closer to Amy, his gaze inadvertently drawn to her eyes.

"So you were considering Machu Picchu for our next date?"

Startled, she jerked her head sideways and peered up at him, not quite sure what to make of his question. "I haven't been there in a while," she finally responded.

"How high up is it?"

Her brow furrowed, a mixture of thought and confusion. "About 8000 feet."

His amber eyes scanned the horizon. "Then I vote no."

She flashed him a look of complete bewilderment. "Why?"

"I couldn't kiss you with an oxygen mask on, could I?'

Her eyes widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. They were cool, and the sensation tingled his senses. She remained motionless, not drawing away but not returning the gesture. Tentatively, he ran a hand through her hair when he finally felt the slightest of a response. The encouragement gave him goose bumps.

At last she pulled away, and he dropped his hand. Her face, no longer cold in the slightest, was flushed a rosy pink, and she had difficulty looking him in the eye. He hadn't expected anything less, although the irregular thump in his ribcage was an unanticipated novelty.

The air suddenly felt exceptionally humid, despite the cool breeze. Amy was tongue-tied, while Ian wasn't quite sure what to make of the adrenaline that suddenly coursed through his veins. He licked his lips, the feeling of hers against his still lingering, and studied her face, afraid she might retreat into awkward silence.

"I'm curious," he said, more to dilapidate the tension than out of genuine interest. "The last poor sap to ask you out – where did he take you?"

She finally met his eyes, the corners of her mouth lifting upwards. "Le Maurice."

His eyes widened, and she smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "But I like this better."

_xXxXx_

_I have a backstory behind all this that I alluded to, but didn't go into detail about. I'm thinking about perhaps writing and posting it as the first of a series of drabbles._

_And Happy New Year to all! I wish you the very best and want to especially thank all those who continually read/review my stories. I've officially been on FF for one year (as of December twenty-something), and good gracious my writing has gotten so much better. Which, of course, is totally in part to my wonderful readers. So again, I hope and pray this year will be a good one, and I want to thank all of you from the bottom of my heart. :)_


End file.
